


In Full Color

by thnksfrthwilliam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Artists, Fluff, Frottage, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Sabriel Minibang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-08
Updated: 2011-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-24 09:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thnksfrthwilliam/pseuds/thnksfrthwilliam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Stanford, Sam starts a new life in New York City. Everything is pretty run-of-the-mill, until he meets Gabriel, an artist who uses unorthodox colors to paint everyday scenes and ends up with a friend in all the unfamiliarity of the city.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Full Color

Before Sam had learned that dreams don’t, in fact, come true, before his dad had told him that dreams were for fools and little girls and before his big brother had stopped telling him that he could do anything he wanted to as long as he set his mind to it, Sam had wanted to be an artist.

As a kid he’d wanted to make beauty from raw materials in hopes that it could bring some color and warmth to his rather bland childhood. His mom had always supported his artistic endeavors, telling him how much she liked this drawing or how amazing that painting was. She brought him to art museums as often as she could, though it was difficult when the military base the Winchesters were on at the time, courtesy of dear old dad, Marine extraordinaire, wasn’t near a city. She did this because she had been an artist once, a painter, before the bleakness of their military life had taken away her passion for creating works of art. His dad never encouraged him, though, never told him, even once, that he liked anything he did. John Winchester actually scoffed every time Sam bought brushes instead of a knife, a canvas instead of a holster.

Eventually, Dean joined the Marines just as their father had, leaving Sam without a big brother to look up to and without someone to defend him from his dad’s cruel words. And with that, Sam gave up on his artistic endeavor, putting his paints and charcoals and pens in a box and shoving it under his bed, tossing his canvases and sketch books in a dumpster. Still, he never went along with his father’s will that he should join the military. Instead, Sam found a different profession that he felt he would be fit for, even if it was devoid of the type of excitement that art brought him.

With his sharp mind and eagerness to learn, Sam was easily accepted to the Stanford prelaw program with a full scholarship, met the girl of his dreams while there and graduated top of his class. He had plans for when he got his degree; he wanted to work in a large firm in San Diego and he wanted to ask Jessica to marry him, to live a happy, respectable, white picket fence life. But even the best plans crumbled when they weren’t agreed upon and when Jess confessed that she didn’t feel the same about him as she had when they first started dating, Sam’s hopes were crushed. Instead of wallowing, though, he chose to move to New York, a city he had always hoped to visit, and to work in any firm that would hire him out there, leaving Jessica and starting a new life out east where no one knew his name.

He found an apartment in New York, small with only one bedroom, a living room barely wider than Sam was tall and a kitchen that looked better suited for a family of dwarves than an above average sized man. Then, once he was settled, he went about finding a law firm that would employ him. It didn’t take long, with his shiny Stanford degree and winning, dimpled smile, and in no time at all he was working at Bradstone and Locke, a modestly sized firm tucked out of the way in a much larger building.

He thrived there, even though everything was grayscale and taupe, plain and boring. He was a hard worker and turned out to be a phenomenal lawyer, representing his clients well in any case. And if he found himself drawing on spare scraps of paper and wondering what sort of techniques he would use to draw the _fucking copy machine,_ well, he didn’t dwell on those things for long.

Sometimes, when he finished lunch early and had time left before his next appointment, he would amble down the halls of the firm with no real destination. It was just a way to escape his cramped office and stretch his legs, but Sam found he really liked his daily explorations of the law firm. One of those days, during his aimless wandering, he caught sight of a painting that someone had recently mounted on the wall. A stark, colorful contrast to the beige plaster behind it. If someone just walked by at the usual too-fast-to-give-a-damn pace of a lawyer without really noticing the specific colors used, it wasn’t that exciting a painting, just a stream, lined with trees, and a few deer in the foreground. But if someone stopped to really _look_ at it, like Sam had, the colors would stand out as odd and _interesting._ Hot pink deer, a teal stream, lime green leaves adorning magenta branches, a cerulean sky with a lemon yellow sun. Everything was bright and fascinating and amazing.

Sam marveled at the piece, staring for longer than he must have realized because one of Mr. Bradstone’s secretaries nudged him and asked, with a large smile, if he liked the painting.

“Yeah- yeah, I do… do you know where it was purchased?”

She nodded enthusiastically, scribbling down an address on a sheet of lined paper and handing it to him, still grinning. Sam thanked her and headed back to his desk, but he couldn’t help the fact that he was distracted through the rest of his meetings with clients, stuck thinking about leaving and searching out the gallery, feeling like a kid in middle school again, dying for the last bell.

As soon as he was finished with his last appointment, he practically booked it out the door, not stopping to chat with people as he usually did, just smiling and giving a quick wave to everyone who tried to talk to him while he was leaving. He felt like he should be a little embarrassed over how excited he was, but he couldn’t concentrate on anything other than finding the place where the painting came from.

It took him a good half an hour to locate the gallery, tucked next to an alley on the far end of the business district. It had been so long since Sam had last visited any sort of art-oriented location and he was so excited he was nearly shaking. He took a deep breath and walked in the door, eyes wide with childlike wonder as he took in the bright hues around him.

He was in love.

The first painting he turned to look at was of two little birds sitting on a telephone wire, seemingly chirping a conversation to each other. One of the birds was fire truck red with a granny smith green beak and feet of the same color. The other had deep royal purple feathers and a beak so blindingly orange that Sam had to look at the plain white wall and blink away the after images before turning back to the painting. They were set on a simple black wire that stood out against all the bright colors. He hummed to himself as he took in all the intricate details of the piece; he felt giddy, like a kid let loose in a toy store.

The next painting he chose to look at featured a willow tree in the foreground with a beautiful rainbow behind it. Rainbows were colorful as it was, but this one was more vibrant, the often pastel colors given by nature were turned up to eleven- without looking like it was painted by a seven year old, no less. The willow tree itself was the same sort of bright as the rainbow though the leaves that should have been green were bubble gum pink and the naturally brown trunk was a deep blue. Sam thought the shade looked like the twilight sky during a Kansas summer, the way he remembered it from when he was a kid, before his dad had uprooted them with his military career. The dark, almost denim shade of blue that shone with the light of the barely set sun and the rising moon. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he continued to look at the painting, taking in the composition and brush strokes.

Sam was so enthralled with one of the pieces that he nearly squeaked when someone tapped him on the shoulder. A girl with short cropped blonde hair was smiling at him when he turned to look.

“Hey, stretch, I’m Meg,” she said with a smirk. “I’m kinda the salesgirl around here and you seem to be pretty enraptured by the wares,” she continued, sticking out her hand for a shake.

“Oh, I’m Sam. Sorry, I didn’t even see you when I came in-“ Sam quickly answered, blushing at his lack of observation as he shook her hand. “Are you the artist?”

“I don’t have an artistic bone in my body,” Meg chuckled, “The artist is Mr. Novak- and he’s _all_ artist, not really the business type- which is why I have this job in the first place.”

“Well, I’m just looking for now- I saw one of his paintings at the law firm I work at and I couldn’t help but want to see more of his work,” Sam said, returning Meg’s earlier smile.

She nodded and went back to sweeping the hardwood floor, whistling to herself as she worked.

When he next looked at his watch, an hour had passed and he realized he really should get home and look over his cases, make some notes on them, and try to eat an actual nutritious meal as opposed to the microwaved crap he’d been having lately. Giving Meg a small wave, he walked out, already planning another visit to the gallery.

Every opportunity he got to return he took, always with the same giddiness. He got especially when there was a new painting on the wall, another work of art that he could just spend time looking at. He had yet to buy any of the pieces, but Meg never called him out on it. The amount of time he spent at the gallery or even just thinking about it was obsessive and unhealthy, but he couldn’t bring himself to really care. Whenever he was around the bright colors and breathtaking compositions, he felt, no matter how silly it sounded, a little more alive. Office life in monochromatic tones was killing his creative spirit, but the myriad of colors in the gallery helped patch it up.

Sam was chatting with Meg one day, a few weeks after he’d first discovered the gallery, when someone else came in. It caught the lawyer by surprise because this was the first time anyone else had come into the gallery in all the times he had been there. The person was a short man (though Sam figured he was probably near average height and just looked short next to Sam’s own six foot and then some frame) who wore a smug smile like he knew the secrets of the universe and could sell them to you for five easy payments of $19.95, plus shipping and handling.

He addressed Meg simply, saying her name with a nod before turning to Sam and just _looking_ at him. It made Sam feel pretty fucking awkward, but he didn’t say anything, fidgeting a little under the other man’s scrutiny. Eventually the smaller man seemed to get bored of  staring and moved on, ambling over to look at a painting of a cerulean river with fluorescent purple rapids.

“I think Gabriel likes you,” Meg stage whispered, loud enough for it to echo through the room.

Sam was about to ask who Gabriel was when the short man called out playfully, “Fuck you, Meg, you’re the one who said I should come in to meet him.”

“Fuck you very much too, Gabe, you always ask about people who come in and _he’s_ in  here at least twice a week. Besides, you’ve always liked ‘em tall.”

Gabriel turned and looked up at Sam again, appraising him, before walking over and sticking his hand out with a smile far more genuine than the one he had been wearing when he first came in.

“I’m Gabriel Novak and you seem to have taken quite an interest in my work, so I figured I should at least meet you.”

Oh.

 _Oh._

Sam nearly spluttered as he gripped Gabriel’s hand and shook. This was the man who’d created these pieces. Someone who was creative and colorful and all the things Sam once was before he’d crammed himself into a different, far less stimulating profession. And Sam wanted to get to know him.

“Hey, sport, you still with me?” Gabriel asked with a smirk, hand still encased in Sam’s larger one.

Sam blushed bright pink and dropped Gabriel’s hand, looking anywhere but the artist’s eyes, stammering an apology.

“You’re pretty adorable, kid,” Gabriel said, smiling fondly.

Sam couldn’t stop blushing, especially after comment. Gabriel noticed Sam’s apparent discomfort and smirked, though it looked more sad than amused.

“Sorry, Sam, I know my personality can be a little, uh, forward,” Gabriel sighed, like his over enthusiastic tendencies always scared off the people he met.

Sam quickly shook his head and gave the shorter man a reassuring smile.

“It’s fine, Gabriel. I- you actually remind me a little of my older brother,” Sam commented, brushing his own hair away from his face as he smiled at the memories of Dean being just as crass and unpredictably, obnoxiously forward.

The almost-blond man gave a half smirk at that.

“Is that a good thing?” he asked, voice teasing.

“Well, my brother can be pretty cool. But he can also be a total dick, so…” Sam replied with a shrug, teasing right back.

Gabriel put a hand to his heart, gasping dramatically.

“You wound me, Sam”

Sam couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face and the small chuckle that tumbled from his lips. He felt so much more at ease around Gabriel than he had a few minutes ago due to the man’s charisma alone.

The lawyer returned to the gallery as often as his work would allow him, starting an immediate friendship with Gabriel. The shorter man’s face lit up whenever Sam walked in the door and the expression made Sam a little sad. It caused him wonder exactly how many other friends Gabriel must have to get so excited over a nerdy young lawyer’s company.

Often, they would just stand around in the middle of the spacious room, talking about whatever came up and smiling until their cheeks hurt. It was the highlight of Sam’s week, getting to talk about art with an artist who could make him smile like that. Sam eventually told Gabriel about how he had once wanted to be an artist, how he had learned everything he could about art and created as much as he had time for before his dad crushed that dream. Gabriel seemed a little more somber after that, like it hurt him to hear about Sam’s fucked up childhood.

On his next visit, Sam found Gabriel sitting on the floor with his back pressed to the wall, legs crossed. The shorter man invited Sam to sit with him and he couldn’t resist, even wearing his work suit, so he plunked himself down next to Gabe and crossed his legs with some effort; he hadn’t sat like that since he was a kid, his legs were too long to really allow that type of contortion.

“So, Sammy,” Gabriel began, using a nickname that Sam usually took the time to correct, but he found that he liked how it sounded when Gabriel said it. “What do you think of that?”

The artist was pointing at one of the paintings; Sam followed his finger, finding a newly decorated canvas on the wall. It was different than most of the other works in the room in that instead of depicting nature it showed a city scene, the hustle and bustle of people going to work or school or running errands among the tall buildings of New York City. But save for the different subject matter, the painting was still very _Gabriel,_ painted in outlandish colors, no tans or browns or grays, just reds and blues and greens. Sam grinned, eyes studying the piece, taking in the composition and colors.

“I think it’s my new favorite.”

 

Gabriel’s smile widened until he was beaming.

“Though I have to ask, are you allergic to neutral colors?” Sam teased with a smile.

“Want to know something, kiddo? I’ve never even owned any brown paint.”

“Never _ever_?” Sam asked, goading him on.

“Never ever _ever_. It’s too boring. Why use brown when you can use hot pink or teal?”

Sam smirked and nodded, eyes dancing with mirth.

“I guess you’re right.”

“Damn right, I’m right,” Gabriel shot back, indignant but still smiling.

Sam couldn’t stop his short bark of a laugh at Gabriel’s expression; the guy was really adorable. The shorter man raised an eyebrow at Sam, smirking a little.

“Did I do something funny, Winchester?”

Sam just shook his head and went on smiling.

Sam didn’t make it back for about a week after that due to a large case taking up most of his time. When he finally did return, Gabriel wasn’t there, though Meg was sweeping the floor just as she had been when he first walked through the door. She grinned and waved when he came in, propping the broom against the wall.

“Hey, Sam, long time no see.”

He nodded and shrugged. “I know, I know. Work has been really busy recently. We had a big name client come in and everyone kinda freaked out over the case.”

She smiled again, nodding to show that she understood, then she went back to sweeping and left Sam to his own thoughts and observations. He looked around, loving the familiarity of the place. He was smiling until he eyes passed over the empty spot that had once displayed the painting of the city.

“Hey, Meg, where did that painting go?” Sam asked, wondering if someone had bought his favorite painting in the gallery. He found himself a little disappointed at that prospect, though he knew Gabriel sold paintings for a living and it was bound to happen at some point.

She smirked, leaning the broom against the wall again and holding up her index finger to say ‘one second’ before running off to the small closet that held a few cleaning supplies. Sam waited patiently, wondering what Meg could possibly be doing digging around in the tiny space. When she emerged she was holding a brown paper wrapped rectangle that looked suspiciously like a canvas.

“Why isn’t it on the wall?” Sam asked, frowning a little.

“Because Gabriel wants you to have it, Sam. You’re practically all he talks about now, y’know. And you said this painting was your favorite…”

Sam nodded as Meg spoke, then shook his head when the words really sunk in.

“I couldn’t- this is his livelihood, I can’t just _have_ one of his paintings.”

She smiled at him, like he was a kid in grade school missing the whole point of the exercise.

“He _wants_ you to have it. It’s a gift. So stop being so goddamn nice and just take it.”

Sam nodded again, taking the painting from her and holding it carefully.

“Give him a huge ‘thank you’ for me, would you?”

Meg smirked and waved him off, once again picking up her broom.

“Yeah, yeah, lawyer-boy, run off back to your professional life now.”

Sam chuckled and gave her a little salute reminiscent of the ones his father had forced him and Dean to give, walking back to his apartment quickly, keeping a ginger but just firm enough hold on the wrapped canvas in his hands. He put it down on his coffee table when he got home, unwrapping it with deft fingers, grinning the whole time. When it was completely stripped of the uncharacteristically plain paper Sam noticed a scrap of folded printer paper that had been tucked between the wrapping and the actual canvas.

 _ ~~Kiddo~~ ~~Sammy~~ Sam,_

 _I know you really liked this painting and it was looking pretty lonely up on the wall knowing it could have an owner like you, so I thought you might have a place in your home for it. Thanks for keeping an aging artist company these past few months._

 _Hope you like it,_

 _Gabe_

Sam folded the paper again, slipping it into his pocket with a reverence usually reserved for the ancient, crumbling tomes in the far corners of the library. Finding a few things to hang the painting right over the headboard of his bed (hammer, nails, things Dean had given him before he left but that Sam had never had reason to use before) he did so quickly, stepping back to admire the piece once he was finished.

He dreamed in a bizarre, beautiful perversion of technicolor that night.

His next visit to the gallery was the following day; with the large case out of the way he had time to enjoy the art and, more importantly, Gabe’s company again. Gabriel greeted him with a large grin, as usual.

“Sammy! You’re back.”

“Can’t stay away, Gabe. Thank you for the painting, by the way. I love it.”

Gabriel blushed a bit at Sam bringing up the gift he had given him, but he continued smiling despite the pink cheeks. Sam didn’t know why, but when he saw Gabriel blush like that he walked over and wrapped his arms around the artist, hugging him tightly before releasing him and looking like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

“Shit- shit, I’m sorry,” Sam apologized, not sure if he had overstepped some boundary.

Gabriel’s chuckle quelled his fears, though, melted his frown into a relieved smile.

“You’re in the clear, kiddo, you’re not gonna scare me off that easy,” Gabe said, stretching up to ruffle his hair.

Looking past Gabriel for a moment, Sam caught Meg’s affectionate eye roll.

“Have something you want to share with the class, Meg?” Sam asked with a smirk.

“You two are just adorably oblivious. But mostly oblivious,” she answered with a smile tugging on the corners of her mouth, shrugging.

The lawyer raised an eyebrow and she only responded by shaking her head with a knowing smirk. She went home early that night, Gabriel sending her back to her apartment because no one had come into the gallery the entire day save for Sam. Once she was gone the two men fell into a comfortable silence until Sam got curious.

“Gabriel?”

“Yeah, Sam?”

“Is Meg your, uh, girlfriend?”

Gabriel laughed at the question, near hysterics, and barely managed to say “no” through his giggles.

“Oh… Do you- um- have a girlfriend at all?”

Another “no”, but this time Gabriel wasn’t laughing.

“Do you?” Gabriel asked carefully, eyes searching Sam’s expression.

Sam shook his head and Gabe gave him a little smile, scooching a bit closer to him but not invading his personal space just yet. The lawyer didn’t move at all, trying to decide what he wanted out of this whole thing. He could tell that Gabriel was offering to take their relationship further, but also giving him an easy out by not making the first move. Sam eventually chose to fuck all the possible consequences, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Gabriel’s lips, pulling back only an inch or so when he finished.

“Is this okay?” Sam asked, though after seeing the look on Gabriel’s face he could tell he didn’t actually have to pose the question.

A quick nod was the only answer he got before the shorter man closed the distance between them again, kissing him with a little more force than the first meeting of lips. They continued like this, simply kissing in the center of the gallery, for as long as they could manage. After a while, Sam started to get sore from the angle he was leaning down at.

“I should probably get back to my apartment,” Sam muttered after he straightened up again, looking like he’d much rather stay right where he was for the rest of eternity.

Gabriel nodded and stood on his tiptoes, stretching up and looping his arms around Sam’s broad shoulders to give him one more lingering kiss before letting him go.

Sam returned to the gallery more frequently after that night and Gabriel started taking him out places, like the café down the street or Central Park or even just back to his apartment for a movie and take-out, small things. It definitely felt like dating, even though neither of them had officially called it that. Meg seemed terribly amused by the whole affair, like she had known it was bound to happen from the start, and when Sam stopped to think about it, he realized she probably had.

They spent a lot of time at that little café nearby, enjoying the food and the people watching opportunities. The owner of the place, Ellen, was one of Gabriel’s close friends and she was always happy to see them around. Gabe got sugar-filled (might have been coffee before all the sweetener was added) drinks and chocolate-drizzled pastries while Sam stuck to salad and regular coffee, cream and one sugar. The artist had a real sweet tooth that made Sam smile, and if when they kissed Gabriel always tasted faintly of sugar, Sam certainly didn’t mind one bit.

On top of having a sugar tolerance that could put a kid to shame, Gabe also had quite an appetite for gossip. They would sit in the café at their small table that required Sam to practically fold himself in half to sit at, and in between bites of cake and sips of sugary drinks Gabriel would comment on the people around them.

A perky little blonde at the table next to theirs was Ruby, an aspiring actress who was always more than a little ready for a good time. Across from her was Bela; according to Gabriel, no one actually knew what she did, but everyone knew she made _really_ good money doing it. She and Ruby were close friends and sometimes lovers, though the second part was apparently a lesser known fact, something Gabriel had learned only after spending time at a bar, drinking until sunrise, with the blonde woman. The table next to Ruby’s had only one person occupying it, a man who went by the name of Crowley, though whether that was his first or last name was unknown to even Gabe. He was a successful businessman who almost always had an attractive woman attached to his arm. Sam asked why he would be alone if that was the case and Gabriel clarified that Crowley had a lover outside the city and was probably going to see him today, so he had no need for a sexy lady to satisfy him.

Sam listened to all of Gabriel’s stories with rapt attention- he had never really been one for gossip, but the way the artist wove his words together left Sam unable to stop listening.

When they’d finished their food and Gabriel had had his fill of gossiping, they walked back to the gallery. Sam chuckled at how they must look to a passersby, an abnormally tall man in a suit and a shorter guy in jeans and a t-shirt, holding hands and chatting, both smiling brightly.

They continued to go on simple dates like that, sometimes doing something a little more elaborate and expensive when Gabriel sold a painting or Sam closed an important case. But for the most part, their relationship was nothing dramatic or showy (much to Sam’s surprise, considering Gabriel’s personality); it was just Sam and Gabriel doing things they loved together.

“Hey, Sammy, how would you feel if I said I wanted to paint you?”

Sam looked over at Gabriel and tilted his head a little.

“Do you mean cover me in paint or paint a portrait of me?”

The comment startled a chuckle out of Gabriel and he grinned at Sam lecherously.

“I like the sound of that first option. But I meant the second one, Sam.”

“Then I would be fine with it. Honored, even,” Sam answered, trying to hide his elation over the prospect of it.

Gabriel’s grin grew wider and he stretched up to plant a kiss on Sam’s lips, lingering for a few seconds.

“How about at the gallery on Saturday?” Gabriel murmured, only pulling back enough to see Sam’s reaction.

Sam nodded and smiled at how excited Gabriel looked about this, then he bent down again to share another, longer kiss.

The sun filtered through the windows in the gallery well, the spring daylight bright and useful for Gabriel’s line of work. The artist sat Sam down on a raised platform and put him in a position that was aesthetically pleasing, telling him to sit ‘naturally’ while he frantically mixed paints on his palette, beginning right away.

Sam’s clothes were more casual than usual; Gabriel had insisted that he look less lawyer-y, so Sam had grabbed a pair of jeans that just so happened to make his ass look fantastic and a plaid shirt that might have hugged his muscles nicely. Not that he was trying to get Gabriel to notice his physical assets at all.

“You’re pretty hot for a lawyer, kiddo,” Gabriel commented while painting, smirking without looking up from his canvas.

Sam’s only reaction was to smile and try to keep himself from blushing. He watched Gabriel carefully as the shorter man painted, loving the way the muscles in his arms twitched with every sweep of his brush and flick of his wrist and how much concentration he was putting into his work. Watching Gabe paint gave Sam a little bit of a thrill, enough that when the artist accidentally wiped a streak of teal paint on his cheek Sam let out a small choked off noise that could have been a whimper.

“See something you like, Sammy?” Gabriel asked, smirking at the noise Sam had just made.

Sam nodded, then got up and gently wiped the paint off Gabriel’s cheek with the pad of his thumb, hand lingering for longer than entirely necessary.

“You had some-” Sam said, presenting his paint covered thumb to Gabriel with a sheepish smile.

“Thanks, kiddo. Now go sit back down and look sexy for me,” Gabriel replied, an easy smile on his face showing that he didn’t mind that Sam had done that.

Sam leaned down to kiss him softly, hand still cupping his cheek, and Gabriel, without hesitation, kissed back. Gabe’s paint-covered fingers tangled in Sam’s hair and it was a _mess_ but the lawyer found that he didn’t really mind in the least as he sighed contentedly into the kiss. After a few minutes of simply kissing Gabriel pulled away, lips bruised, eyes sparkling.

“Now go sit back down and I promise we can finish what we’re getting into here once I finish _this_.”

Sam nodded, smiling dreamily and going to sit back down in the same position he had been in before, fixing his hair as best he could. Gabriel looked him over appraisingly, pushing his own hair out of his face and managing to leave another streak of paint on his forehead before starting again, finishing within the hour. When Sam got up to take a peek at the finished product Gabriel held him back.

“Not yet, hotshot,” Gabriel said with a sly smile, standing on his tip toes to kiss him, arms looping around his neck.

Grinning when he pulled back from the kiss, Sam brushed Gabriel’s hair off his face affectionately. The taller man hefted Gabe into his arms, forcing him to wrap his legs around Sam’s waist and to press his half hard cock against his stomach. Sam chuckled a little when he felt exactly how much their kissing was arousing Gabriel.

“I want you, Sam,” Gabriel murmured in Sam’s ear, and if Sam wasn’t already as turned on as Gabriel was, that would have done it for him.

He looked over at the two large windows on the far wall and frowned a little; he wasn’t one for exhibitionism. Gabriel squirmed in Sam’s arms until he was set back on his feet, then he practically ran over to the windows, pulling the blinds down with a grin.

“Tada!” Gabe exclaimed, throwing his arms open in presentation and looking extremely proud of himself.

“You’re adorable,” Sam responded, tugging Gabriel back towards him with a predatory smile.

“So you’ve said, Mr. Winchester.”

Gabriel started to unbutton Sam’s plaid shirt, taking his time, kissing down his neck as he unfastened each button. Sam just let him work, enjoying the attention. As soon as Gabe finished with the last button he pushed the shirt off the lawyer’s shoulders, stepping back a little to pull his own t-shirt off and to admire Sam’s muscled torso.

“Like I said, far too hot to be a lawyer. I mean _fuck,_ you keep this chiseled-by-the-gods body under a stuffy suit all day, where’s the fun in that?”

Sam chuckled and shrugged, letting his own hands trail down to his jeans, undoing them slowly, giving Gabriel something of a show. The small sound that the artist made ( _A whimper,_ Sam thought to himself, and doesn’t it feel nice to be the one to get Gabe to do that?) while watching him shuck the denim off his legs was all Sam needed for encouragement. Now standing in the middle of the gallery in just his boxers, Sam smiled at Gabriel, letting him make the next move. Gabe, for all the years he had on Sam, just stood there and looked him over, swallowing as his eyes raked over all the exposed skin. It wasn’t like they hadn’t done this before, but this was the first time they’d really taken their time and just admired each other, and Gabriel found that he liked it.

“So fucking gorgeous…”

Sam blushed and stepped forward, unbuttoning Gabriel’s pants for him and letting them drop to pool at his ankles. He kissed the shorter man softly, content to just stand there, more than half naked, and make out with Gabe. Gabriel, on the other hand, seemed to have other ideas as his hands roamed over Sam’s chest down to the bulge in his boxers, tracing his fingers over the hard line of his arousal. Sam whined at the teasing touch, hips pushing towards Gabriel’s hand on pure instinct.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sam murmured against Gabe’s lips.

“I plan on it, kiddo.”

The chuckle that escaped Sam’s mouth broke into a moan when Gabriel gave his cloth-covered cock a gentle squeeze. The taller man stepped back this time, pushing his own boxers down slowly, just to see Gabe’s reaction again. And he didn’t disappoint, licking his lips as he watched Sam’s little strip show, groaning at the sight of his erection.

“Sammy, you tease.”

“Hey, it’s not a tease if I plan on actually doing something.”

Hooking his fingers in the waistband of Gabriel’s boxers, Sam pushed them off his hips with a grin, reveling in the shiver he was rewarded with. He pulled Gabriel over to the platform he had been posing on earlier, sitting on it and yanking the smaller man onto his lap. He kissed down the artist’s neck, enjoying every tiny sound that he made.

“So, Gabriel, have any preference?” Sam asked between kisses.

Gabriel hummed, finding it hard to think while Sam used that god-given gift he called a mouth on his neck.

“How would you feel about me taking you up on your sorta suggestion? The one where you mentioned me covering you in paint?”

“…I wouldn’t be totally against it, no,” Sam answered while still kissing and licking at Gabe’s neck.

“Oh, good,” Gabriel grinned, leaning up to coat his fingers in magenta paint, tracing the digits down Sam’s sternum, following the shadows in the dips of his abs with the slick pigment.

Sam groaned softly, laying back and pulling Gabriel into a better position, moaning when he felt the shorter man’s cock slide over his stomach and settle in next to his own erection. Gabriel whined happily before leaning up and dipping his hand in teal paint this time, ghosting the pads of his fingers over the lines of Sam’s biceps as he rocked his hips against the taller man’s. Sam’s moans echoed in the room slightly as he followed Gabriel’s rhythm, rocking his hips up to meet the other man’s.

“Mmm, feels good, kiddo.”

Sam smirked and reached up to slide his fingers through the color purple, squeezing Gabriel’s ass and leaving streaks of violet across the swell of it and using his grip to pull Gabe tighter against him. Gabriel’s response was to grin and press his whole palm into the red paint, grabbing Sam’s hips and leaving a cerise hand print on his left one.

“Red is definitely your color, Sam- especially when it’s _my handprint_ you’re wearing,” Gabriel murmured in Sam’s ear, still rocking his hips against the man under him, smearing his own stomach with the magenta paint present on Sam’s abs.

“Can’t say I mind you marking me, it’s the sort of kinky I like,” Sam replied, smirking and trailing gold paint over Gabriel’s shoulder blades repeatedly until the marks almost resembled a mess of feathers.

Gabe moaned, louder and louder the faster the rutting got, loving the feeling of Sam’s fingers on his shoulder blades and then down his back, the cool paint a welcome contrast to his nearly too hot skin. The artist stroked Sam’s face, leaving splotches of the various colors still on his fingers across his cheek bones. Sam sighed contentedly, leaning in to the gentle caress.

“Not gonna last much longer, Sammy- fuck, I- I love you,” Gabriel whimpered, hips still rocking against Sam’s desperately.

“I love you too, Gabriel.”

Gabe cried out his release, nearly screaming Sam’s name and a string of expletives, after only a few more minutes of frotting, adding milky white to the rainbow already dancing over their skin. Hearing Gabriel come apart like that from something as simple as rutting against each other brought Sam over the edge too, mewling into a rough kiss.

For a while Gabriel just splayed himself out on top of Sam, panting and kissing him occasionally, enjoying the simple closeness and not wanting to get up and deal with the fact that they were both sticky and littered with streaks of drying paint.

“I think I like you better than any canvas I’ve ever worked with. _And_ you’re a damn good model too. You’re pretty fucking perfect,” Gabriel mumbled, lips grazing the skin of Sam’s neck.

Sam purred at the soft, barely-there feeling of Gabe’s mouth against his neck, running his fingers through the shorter man’s brass hued hair lazily.

“Speaking of canvases, can I look at the painting yet?”

Gabriel nodded and slowly untangled himself from Sam, offering a hand to help him up and interlacing their fingers before bringing him over to see his most recent work. Sam’s breath caught in his throat when he saw it, squeezing Gabriel’s hand a little. It wasn’t so much the painting of himself that got Sam a bit choked up, it was the fact that Gabe had wanted to do this. That his lover or boyfriend or significant other or whatever, his _Gabriel,_ loved him. He bent down to press a kiss to Gabe’s cheek, smiling dreamily.

“I love it, Gabe- thank you.”

“Anything for you, kiddo, anything for you.”

And the sweetness of the whole moment, being surrounded by art and materials and in the company of a man so passionate about his work, made Sam feel like maybe he could take up his art again, as long as Gabriel was along for the endeavor.

**Author's Note:**

> Done for the Sabriel minibang over at Livejournal  
> There was some beautiful art done for this fic over here~ http://ziarenete13x.livejournal.com/40516.html  
> Seriously, go look at it


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